


in the next life, i will try again.

by lavi (wangwen)



Category: None - Fandom
Genre: Other, rip soren — the series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-10
Updated: 2019-01-10
Packaged: 2019-10-08 00:15:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17375882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wangwen/pseuds/lavi
Summary: — the multiverse was supposed to be made of endless possibilities, but some things always stayed the same.his hair was always blonde.and love always killed him.





	in the next life, i will try again.

When he woke up, the world was a quiet place. It was an achromatic void, with gray, weeping fields that expanded as far as you could see in every direction, still and lifeless and fading into white mist on the horizon. There were no trees, and the sky sluggishly swirled overhead in hues of silvery blue-green, melted like watercolor painted with tears. Looking down, he realizes that he too, was colorless; lifting a hand he saw his skin was faded to the color of sterling silver, his clothes a simple cloak of dark blue layered over a long-sleeved white shirt and long pants the same color. Where was he? Who was he? 

_“It’s been a long time, since you’ve been here.”_

He looks up, and sees a person sitting right next to him, an older boy with a head of light orange hair that stood out like a fire against the muted colors surrounding them. His eyes were calm oceans of blue with unimaginable depth, and he was wrapped in a cloak similar to his own, except the fabric was completely white, with a black scarf wrapped loosely around the stranger’s neck. The unnamed person turns his head towards him, smiling softly. 

“You don’t remember me, do you...? I suppose you wouldn’t. This is not a very good place to be, Soren.” 

Was that his name? Soren feels his eyebrows furrow as he takes the other’s words in, looking around himself again before opening his mouth to finally speak. 

“Where is this place, exactly?” 

(His voice sounded tired, not his. Although he supposes he doesn’t know what his own voice was meant to sound like, anyway.) 

“Ah...” The boy chuckles to himself, his eyes closing as he flops onto his back, reaching up towards the misty sky. 

“This is a world that lies between afterlife, and where you first came from. It is a place of your beginning, but it does not necessarily have to be the place where you end. That choice is yours alone to make.” 

So why was he here? Why did it fall to him to make a choice? What would happen once he did? 

“You were brought here, because your soul has lived many lives, and it has grown tired. It has lost its will; forgotten the reason it wanted to keep going. You have forgotten, Soren.” 

He was tired. His entire being felt heavy, and ached, begging to be set free to float in endless dream for eternity. To end it here, seemed like the better choice. But something tugged in his chest, a nagging urge that was growing _desperate._ The stranger watches him intently, and Soren frowns. 

“Who are you? Did you create me?” 

The stranger shakes his head, his expression changing to something melancholy. 

“No... I did not. Tell me, Soren; by what definition, do you exist?” 

Soren thinks for a long time, staring into the distance at nothing. Does he exist, really? If this place was truly one nobody knew about... was he real? He did not even know his name, until he had been given one. 

“I exist, because someone other than me has said I do.” 

The boy smiles. 

“My name is Psyche. I exist in this realm, only because I have the will to exist outside of it. But you... you are lost. You’ll be lost forever, if you choose to stay here. If you go to sleep, you will not wake up again.” 

Psyche shifts forward, his face twisting with grief as he touches his shoulder with a hand. Soren cannot feel it, but wishes he could. 

“The universe losing a soul like yours... would be a very sad thing. Why are you here, Soren? Why have you rejected life?” 

His head is swimming, like a soup of wet cotton. He can’t remember, he can’t remember.... 

“Why should I live? For what purpose, would it be worth it?” 

Psyche’s lips purse, and he glances away, appearing conflicted. 

“It’s a different answer for everyone. How about I show you the past...? Perhaps, you will remember.” 

Does he want to remember? Soren leans forward, bowing his head and closing his eyes as Psyche reaches up and lightly touches his forehead, warmth blooming from the point of contact and spreading outwards across his entire body in a wave, enveloping him completely. 

*** 

When he opens his eyes again, the scenery around him was different. He’s kneeling in grass, still; but it’s clipped short and was bright green against his own grayed hues, glistening with water from rain as it poured down overhead. Psyche materializes beside him like the shimmering of mist, unbothered by all this somehow as he stares ahead, at a scene that Soren had failed to originally notice until he followed the other’s gaze. Across the darkened forest clearing from his point of view at the tree-line was a pair of shambling figures dragging themselves through the mud; one small and with short, white hair that barely reached past his ears and large, panicked brown eyes that looked close to tears as they held up a taller male against their shoulder. One with sopping wet, light blonde hair streaked with dripping mud and red and looked...almost like — _Oh._

_It was himself._

“S..Soren, _please_ —! we’re almost there. We got out, there’s no way he can find us, we’re safe now...” The younger of the two begged with a voice that sounded stricken and cracked, clutching at his — No, other Soren’s torn and sorry looking clothes, his multiverse counterpart groaning a little in response as their knees suddenly buckled. The snowy-haired boy was no match for the blonde’s weight and the two of them toppled over with a wet splash. 

(Soren only noticed now that his other version was hurt, side torn completely open and sluggishly gushing blood in horrifying torrents and staining his clothes all the way down his right pantleg.) 

“Link...” 

There was no way that Soren should have been able to hear it from where he was observing, but the sound of his own voice, fragile and breathy, was heard just as clear as if he’d been lying there and speaking the words himself, staring up at the innocent child named Link (who was now crying in soft, hiccupped sobs and holding tight onto his shoulders as if doing that would keep him there forever) and smiling softly. _**Happily.**_

“Thank you... for being my friend. You getting to leave here....” 

(He pauses to take a shuddery breath, and Soren feels that strange tugging feeling in his chest again.) 

_“... Made all of this worth it.”_

The scene fades away much like dust would in a summer wind, rain and clouds and trees all crumbling and disappearing around him.


End file.
